The Tramp

Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape

He looked like another tramp with nothing else to do, but walk the streets. So walk the streets he did. Clearly, however, he was not a beggar, for his manner was too proud and the back too straight to permit him to ask another for aid to make his living. His hair was a trifle too long, not by design or the dictate of fashion, but because he just hadn’t gotten around to cutting it. The once silky hair was a wee bit shaggy and a whole lot ruffled. The wind insisted on lifting it around and playfully try to interest him in herself, but he only ignored her. There was another in his thoughts.

I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

He wore loose fitting clothes that billowed in the gusty wind of the sea nearby, and on his blue-grey kutra were neatly mended rips. Several of them, but no patches. He did not believe in there being things that could be sewn back together once a big enough piece had been removed. Somehow, the new patch never fit as well or matched as well. And he liked his whole kurta and the whole life that had been his before he had taken to this habit. There were lines on his face that made him look a lot older than his twenty-something, and the crow feet of laughter seemed to have faded, the same way that the sun was hidden behind the clouds these days. Instead there were the passive lines of loss and worry that marked him, and aged him before his time.

I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace

He was walking on an asphalt road, buildings reared tall all around him. There was a blank look in his soft brown eyes as he strode though the narrow confines of civilization, his mind was full of just one other person. Suddenly the buildings stopped like a giant knife had scraped off the mammoths off the face of the planet, and in from of him lay a beach. Blindly he went towards it, for it held a fascination to him that nothing else did. This was where the he-that-was had ended, and he wondered if it was tiem to end the he-that-is as well.

I cried out heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

Dirty yellow sand, bits of plastic and fragments of glass littered the area. The glass called to him as surely as the sea did, as he made his way to the nearby dhabba-cum-chaiwalla, and sat himself down, staring at nothing. He never asked for it, but the chaiwalla got him a glass of steaming hot masala chai silently and left it in front of the gentleman, as he had for the few weeks past. For once, the Tramp acknowledged the glass that had always been left as it had been given – untouched.

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me

A few gulps later, the tea was down, burning his throat along the way. With a sudden action born of frustration, the glass went flying and broke into pieces. From the depths of a pocket, he picked out a few notes and left them on the sturdy wooden bench- table behind which he had been considering the sea, and broke into a jog. He had picked up a few shards of the glass he had broken, and his speed picked up. Before long, he was struggling against the blue-black waves of a stormy evening, and wading deeper and deeper into the water. It came up to his ribcage now, as he stood at the edge of the continental shelf. He held the deadly edge at his wrist when, for the first time, the tears burst forth.

For you and me
For you and me
Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

Credit: Creed, One Last Breath.
Kini – for the song + blog idea, that I stole from his blog. Thankies.


2 responses to “The Tramp

  1. 🙂 This is exactly what drew me to your blog. Your mode of thought when you write matches mine almost every step of the way.

    The descriptive nature, the anonymity, the hidden allusions to the self and the love of nature and any form of caffeine! The resemblance is almost uncanny. I’m not quite sure the world is ready for TWO writers of this sort though!:)

    And your welcome for the idea of blog+song. It was just something that had fit the article, sometimes songs just boost the depth of an article and put the whole thing into perspective. Though it is kinda curious that you’ve picked a creed song as well… inertia madame?;)

    Loved the piece, as i should!:) Though you might want to look into the slight inconsistency of the wind billowing in his robes when he was walking in a narrow street lined with tall buildings.

    Keep at it!:D

    P.S: Sex-changes seem to be quite popular these days eh?

  2. About the sex change… I do it frequently. (not RL, obviously) But.. alas! Never managed a complete disassociation without sounding very wooden. So I let whichever part of me that wants to shine through, out. Writing is a powerful outlet for those things that I normally do not like aknowledging.

    The wind is real – imagine a straight street leading to a beach and the wind blowing down the road, not as powerful as it would be on the beach, but strong nonetheless. Billowing, migth require signifiant amounts of stretching the imagination. Hmmm. Thanks for pointing it out…

    I actually wrote the entire story, and was spellchecking while I was listening to “One Last Breath” – and it hit me that it was perfect for that song + blog. So, I put the lyrics of the song in. It seemed to fit. *shrug*

    Oh, and I’m addicted to tea. A few friends introduced me to coffee, and I’m fond of it – very fond – now, but addictions are computers, books and tea.

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